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20

I was making it up as I went, but it sounded right. It 21

sounded true. Snatches of classroom dialogues and dime 22

novels, even some things my uncle Brent had said, came 23

together in a lie that was fast becoming my life.

24

“Being true doesn’t make something right, you know,”

25

Narciss argued. “Some things are wrong. Just because you 26

know how to get some slave labor doesn’t make it okay.”

27 S

“I know that,” I said, more as a musical beat than any 28 R

conviction. “I know. But if your hands are clean and 158

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people are still dying, then how can you say that you did 1

better than me?”

2

“I don’t know,” she said after a short pause. “But I don’t 3

want to talk about it anymore. I . . . I have to go.”

4

“Okay. I’m sorry if I bothered you.”

5

“No, you didn’t. Good-bye.”

6

“Bye.”

7

At one time I would have been near despair at that kind 8

of ending to a phone call. So few women ever seemed to 9

show an interest in me that if I had one on the line I never 10

wanted to let go. But that morning I wasn’t worried about 11

anything. I had discovered my calling. Or at least I had 12

found a door.

13

It was like a fairy tale my mother used to read to me —

14

The Brownie’s Gift. A child was walking in the woods 15

looking for his cat, Bootsie, who had run away. The boy 16

searched and called and was very very sad when he came 17

upon an iron door in a tree. There was a tiny slit in the 18

door through which the boy could see a small elfin crea-19

ture — called a brownie — who was locked up and every 20

bit as sad as the child. They made an alliance, boy and elf, 21

that one would help the other and they would both be 22

happy ever after.

23

I don’t remember the particulars, but the brownie was 24

freed and Bootsie was found. I spent years after that search-25

ing my ancestral woods for a door in a tree or the ground.

26

I believed that somewhere there was a beneficent genie who S 27

I could free in exchange for happiness for all times.

R 28

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1

I had found that door after thirty years of searching. It 2

was the hatch to my own basement, and the brownie was 3

a white man who wanted to be caged. No matter the dif-4

ferences the main story was the same. I went to bed think-5

ing that I’d never fall asleep. But after only a moment I was 6

unconscious beneath the heads of my ancestors.

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“Good morning,” the naked man said to me. The pris-C 14

oner was standing in the middle of his cell, his pajamas 15

hung neatly from the back of the cage. The concrete sur-16

rounding his cell was dark from the water he must have 17

thrown there. “I washed both pair last night. I wasn’t at all 18

tired.”

19

Anniston Bennet had a huge uncircumcised penis. It 20

was the biggest one I had ever seen on a human male. It 21

just hung down flaccid and heavy between his thighs.

22

“I was thinking about our talk,” he said, seemingly un-23

conscious of his nakedness or endowment. “I don’t usually 24

think about things much. Usually there’s too much to get 25

done. I’ve lived a pretty active life, you know. But you had 26

me thinking last night. And to answer your question —”

S 27

“What question?”

R 28

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1

“About killing —”

2

“I have to go, Mr. Bennet,” I said. I put down the fried 3

eggs and heated potato patties and pushed them under 4

the door to his cage. I was rattled by his ease at being 5

naked. He wasn’t a powerfully built man, small except for 6

that big dick. And there was a cascading series of cross-7

hatched scars down his right shoulder that was painful to 8

see. His feet were tiny. Something about standing there 9

conversing with the naked man was too much for me.

10

“I’ll be back this afternoon,” I said. “We could talk 11

then.”

12

“Where you going?”

13

“To see my friend. We said we’d get together today.”

14

He wanted to keep on talking, but I had to get out of 15

there. I rushed up the stairs and slammed the hatch shut.

16

I threw the newly attached bolts and secured them with 17

the padlocks and went straight to my car.

18

I never did figure out what it was exactly that drove me 19

from the cellar that morning. I have what I always thought 20

was a normal-size penis. I’ve never measured or anything, 21

but it has the feel of average. The women I’ve known were 22

never surprised, one way or the other, when my erection 23

was finally exposed to them. And even when they whis-24

pered sweet compliments, it had to do with how hard it 25

got rather than how deep it went. Some men, I knew, 26

were better endowed. Bethany had told me that it was 27 S

just this fact that kept her attached to Clarance for so 28 R

long. There were stories about Clarance’s sexual prowess, 162

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but I had seen him in the boys’ gym and he didn’t hold a 1

candle to Anniston Bennet.

2

I’d never felt embarrassed or inferior before that morn-3

ing. And it wasn’t just Bennet’s anatomy but also his ease 4

at being naked. As a child I learned to be ashamed of ex-5

posing my genitals or buttocks. Some dresses that women 6

wear today make me avert my eyes.

7

I was halfway to Clarance’s house before I realized that 8

I had not lied to Bennet. It was Tuesday. Clarance always 9

took Tuesdays off and worked the lighter Sunday shift. I 10

got there a little after 10:00. His oldest daughter, Athalia, 11

was sitting on the front porch. She was a big girl, sixteen 12

I believe, and a magnet for boys.

13

“Hi, Mr. Blakey!” she shouted. “Daddy’s havin’ break-14

fast.”

15

Even that small piece of information was delivered 16

across the lawn in an engaging manner. Athalia was what 17

is known as a daddy’s girl. She loved to see men happy.

18

I’ve often thought that Clarance must have sold his soul 19

at some East Hampton crossroads to be blessed in so 20

many ways.

21

“How’s summer school, Thalia?”

22

“They suspended me ’cause I had a dirty magazine,”

23

she said, her smile dimming for a moment.

24

“You in trouble?”